Free Possession by S.K. Falls

1. EDEN
    E den,
North Carolina, my hometown. There couldn’t be a more perfect version of my own
personal hell than if the devil had designed it himself.
    I
watched the encroaching wall of trees through my cracked windshield, a knot of
sadness and anger blocking my throat, inhibiting my ability to swallow.
    In
spite of my best intentions, I was back, breaking every promise I’d ever made to
myself. I couldn’t believe I was returning to this place after only four years.
    Eden
was one of those bucolic, idyllic towns people in the big city imagine when
they dream of retiring to the country. Bordered by mountains on one side, flush
with greenery and trees and every kind of wildlife, Eden was something out of a
fairytale.
    I
hated it.
    Just
seeing the cloud-choked winter sky pressing down on me—encasing me in a sphere
of gray and green—brought back the old depression, that sense of oppression and
helplessness. I tried to suck in a deep breath; a difficult task when the air
in my car didn’t work and I couldn’t roll down my window.
    I
pulled over at Eden’s unofficial scenic overlook and got out to stretch my legs.
The overlook was a flat piece of land, just before you got to town proper, which
rose up over the valley beneath. The mountainside under me was covered in soft,
dense vegetation, like a carpet of green. Across the way, trees and fog clung
to the sloping land.
    See?
It’s not so bad here, Cara, I thought desperately. It’ll be a nice break from Chicago’s pollution. And
Thanksgiving’s coming up. It’s good to be home for the holidays. I shakily inhaled
the wet, chilly air and let my eyes wander for just another minute. One more
minute to collect myself before I was officially and irrevocably Back Home.
    When
the first freezing drops of rain splashed against my skin, I squared my
shoulders and turned to make my way back to the car. But a patch of bloodstained
white fur, down a few feet from where I was standing, caught my eye.
    Was
it an animal in trouble? Had it been hit?
    “Hey.”
I raised my voice over the wind, but it lay there, still, most of its mass
sheltered by bushes. I pursed my lips and made a loud kissing sound, but it still
didn’t move. Sighing, I stepped over the rickety fence toward where it lay. I
was fairly good on Eden’s hills; I’d grown up playing mountain goat with my
dad, the unofficial wild animal rescuer of the town. It was his voice I was
hearing now, telling me to check on the animal, just in case there was a chance
it was still alive, that it needed help.
    Kneeling
by the fur, I pushed a large frond out of the way to get a better look. I
stared for a long moment, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. “What
the....”
    Several
dozen animals were scattered around in the large clearing past the thick bushes.
    The
animals—rabbits, deer, raccoons, and gophers, of what I could recognize—had
scorch marks all over their bodies, the parts that were still intact. They’d
been ripped apart limb from limb, and the thick, choking smell of rotting flesh
curled into my nostrils.
    When
my body caught up to my brain, I stood up and backed away fast, a hand clapped
over my gaping mouth. Swallowing deep lungfuls of air, I scrambled over the fence
and stumbled to my car, slipping and falling as my mind reeled with what I’d
just seen. Who— what —could’ve done that?
    My
hands, sweaty and ice cold, shook like crazy as I struggled to lock the door
and start the engine. It took me a few seconds to realize that the weird wheezing,
groaning sound was coming from me .
    A
thought hurled itself at me, like a brick to the head: I’m completely alone
out here. Whatever was responsible for the carnage I’d just witnessed might
still be here, watching, lurking. I put the car in drive and screeched back out
onto the road.
    I
sped the ten miles into Eden, sliding over rain-slick roads, repeating the
mantra “holy shit” over and over under my breath. What the hell had I just
seen?